(no subject)

Four hundred years, backwards and forwards, and this still constitutes posting more often than usual for me. Pennsic was its usual beautiful, thriving, overwhelming, inspiring, transforming self. I had just two major fixed commitments, being in a commedia show and teaching a class, and both of those came off fairly well, but beyond them just about everything seemed ill-fated. The worse extremes than usual of brutal weather didn't help, and neither did the limited timing overlap with a number of friends, but even aside from those I just seemed to possess no manner of luck at all. In fact, Pennsic may always be transcendent, but I sure hope it's better next year. My body is abused (I don't think I've ever caught a cold from Pennsic before), my mind is medium-melty, and my soul is a bit kinked - I'm in no rush to leap back into modern life, but I was pretty tired of war by this morning.

And... caught up with communication. Somehow in ten days I seem to have received only a single piece of hard mail and a handful of emails, just one of which I need to respond to.